Lunch?
by vawoolf
Summary: John is about to publish a new 18-chapter novel based largely on Caroline's and Gillian's lives, and Caroline is livid - particularly about the last six chapters, in which John makes the ridiculous decisions to kill off Caroline's new wife, invent an illegitimate son for Alan, and even upend Harry's longboat. She and Gillian talk about it over lunch.
1. John's novel

"Mum! Alan! We're off, " Caroline yells towards the back garden while shuffling Lawrence to the car, gravel crunching under foot. "I'll be back in a few hours."

Celia and Alan turn and wave. As they do, Caroline spots Gillian standing behind them.

"Oh – Hi, Gillian! I didn't know you were here! Where's your car?" Caroline smiles warmly at her step-sister. "It feels like ages since I've seen you."

"Hi, Caroline!" Gillian smiles back. "Yeah, yeah, it's been couple weeks since I've seen these two lovebirds, so I thought I'd better pop over and see him for myself. Make sure he remembers me and all."

Alan chuckles and shakes his head. "Oh, don't worry. You're unforgettable."

"I'll walk back to the car with you," Gillian turns toward Caroline. "Mine's around the corner. I'm leaving now, too. Ta-ta!"

"Ta-ta, love", Celia replies.

"I'm just taking Lawrence to his rugby practice, then I thought I'd have some lunch at a little café in the city centre. Would you like to join me?", Caroline asks. Gillian senses a little bit of an edge in her voice.

"Um, yeah, okay. Sure. I'm in no rush. Sheep aren't going anywhere. Where's Kate?"

"She has choir rehearsal this afternoon. She's taken Grace with her. She'll meet up with Lawrence after his rugby and they'll all be back around 5 o'clock. So, this is mum's – THIS mum's – afternoon off." She lowers her voice. "And, do I need a drink!", she whispers

"Okay, good, sure. Just don't let me get too pissed. Remember the time we checked out wedding venues for me dad and your mum…."

Caroline rolls her eyes. "Ooh, I don't think THAT will be happening again."

"Shall I follow you?"

"No, let's take mine. I daresay Lawrence is dirtier than any of your sheep. LAWRENCE, feet off the seat!"

* * *

"So, what's up, Caroline?" They have settled into a table overlooking the street, and Caroline has just taken a huge gulp of cabernet. It's a warm autumn day – gentle breeze, brilliant blue sky – but a storm cloud is clearly hovering over Caroline.

"Ooh, WHERE do I begin? Where do I even begin?"

Caroline pauses, takes a deep breath, then leans in closer. The storm cloud darkens.

"Well, you remember that book John started writing last year? The one about Alison Waterhouse, the flaccid, over-ripe fruit of a woman, and her mother, who meets up again after 60 years with her teenage love, the father of Lizzie Cunningham, the sheep farmer with the body of a 16-year-old boy and more suiters than she knows what to do with?"

"Oi, how could I ever forget THAT ... Judith coming round the farm looking for him that night, all that trouble with Robbie..." Gillian rolls her eyes.

"Precisely. Well, I thought he'd dropped it after that – but apparently not! He finished the book, and his publisher has picked him up again."

"Oh, good lord!"

"AND, he sent me a copy in advance of publication. He wrote me a note saying he didn't want me to be 'caught off-guard'. It came in yesterday's post." The storm cloud grows.

"What's it … what's it… Well, is it still about us, our family?"

"Yep. I was up half the night reading it," Caroline says, tightening her jaw. "It starts off with the story we all know – your dad, my mum, Facebook, you, me, etcetera. It's the manuscript Judith found, essentially. But the stuff he wrote AFTER that takes some VERY weird turns."

"Go on." Gillian edges forward.

"You just won't believe some of the, the, the drivel he's written. Listen to this: The day after Alison Waterhouse marries her 'dusky Negress', she – the Negress – goes out to buy some milk and is run down in the street and killed! By an out-of-control television soap opera writer, no less." Caroline tightens her jaw. "A day after her bloody wedding!"

"Blimey" Gillian gasps. "What about the baby? What about … Grace?"

"Flora. She's called Flora in the novel. Flora Grace. She's delivered in hospital by caesarian just before her mother dies," Caroline sputters, her voice a little too loud now. "Ripped out of her. Never even sees her baby. It's, it's, brutal! It's, it's, it's absolutely horrifying!"

The waiter glances over. She's getting louder. Gillian reaches out and pats Caroline's arm, stroking it gently with her thumb.

"Well," Gillian offers, "well, it sounds like he feels - felt - feels rather threatened by Kate, doesn't it?"

"Threatened, jealous, spiteful, vengeful." Caroline takes another big swallow of cabernet, slamming the glass down hard on the table, startling the people at the next table over.

"I mean, I know it's partly remorse … He's told me a million times that he's sorry for the mistakes he's made and that he just wants things to 'get back to normal', whatever THAT means. But this, this, cruel, macabre, twist is simply inexcusable."

Gillian covers Caroline's hands with hers, hoping to quiet her down, hoping to avoid broken glass.

"So, back to the story line," Gillian asks. "So, he starts out sticking to things that really happened, with the names changed, of course. Lizzie … Alison... But then he starts making things up?"

"Yep! The story line goes completely off track."

"What was he thinking, do you suppose?" Gillian asks, lowering her voice.

"Well, I think he thought that, if he diverted into fiction, it might not be as libelous. But it so clearly reflects his fears and anger and insecurity. I mean, for God's sake, killing off Kate the day after our wedding? How transparent is THAT? And, ooh, I haven't told you this one yet. You will love this. You and Robbie get married – "

"We what?"

"Oh, yes. You and Robbie get married – and, during your vows, Robbie vomits into a bucket!"

"Good lord." Gillian feels a little physically ill herself.

"Presumably he's working out a little anger at Robbie with that one. I, of course, show up at your wedding covered in shit."

"Wha - ?"

"Yep. Cow shit. Head to toe. Slipped while fixing a puncture _en route_. Apparently killing off my new wife wasn't quite enough punishment for me."

"Bloody hell …." Gillian stares into space, taking it all in.

"You know, I honestly don't know what's worse – that he turned our lives into a novel to begin with – names concealed, whatever – or that he's turned them into such … such fiction!"

"Does he … he hasn't, has he written anything risqué, or owt?" Gillian asks, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Oh yes. OH YES. You – I mean Lizzie Cunningham – take a tumble in the back seat of the Land Rover with a cheesemonger named Ollie. And then you – Lizzie - find yourself in bed with Matthew Waterhouse yet again."

Gillian's face goes pale.

"But, poor Alison Waterhouse … there's nothing for her, ever again. I mean, he disposes of her wife just hours after her wedding, so it's not like Alison will be, um, seeing any action in the boudoir from this point on, is it? Strangely, he has Kate lingering about as a ghost for a few chapters, but apparently ghosts can't have sex. How mean-spirited is THAT?"

This time Gillian intercepts the wine glass, softening the impact.

"He also makes up this weird, weird story line about Kate's old friend from university, Greg, the one she … well, Grace's biological father." She grimaces.

"Oh?"

"John was still hanging around the house quite a bit after Kate and I bought him out, before the baby was born, and one day he apparently asked Kate about the biological father, so she told him a little about Greg. Well, he must have made quite an impression on him, because he's written him into the novel. He – Greg – apparently moves in with me to help take care of the baby after Kate is killed off by the out-of-control television writer."

"Moves in – as in, he's your lover?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that. And, you know, that's one of the things that's a little weird. In his book, John – Matthew Cunningham – starts coming round and spending time with Greg while I'm at work."

They both raise their eyebrows.

"Do you think … is John … is he implying that Matthew Cunningham, he's attracted to …," Gillian's question trails off as she mulls it over.

"Well, I have to admit that that certainly occurred to me as I was reading it. The characters don't DO anything 'gay' in those chapters," she punctuates with air quotes. "But it did make me wonder if, on some subconscious level, that's what John was suggesting without even realizing it. Why else would he be coming round to visit Greg so much and keeping it secret from me/Alison?"

"Maybe, uh, maybe ... Maybe he wants to believe that you are still, uh, still attracted to men? Maybe he, John, uh, Matthew, never really believed you're a lesbian and is creating a situation to see if you – Alison – are attracted to him?"

"I suppose it's possible. He has written Greg as a half-assed twit … so, would he be suggesting that I - Alison - might be attracted to someone like that? If so, what does that say about the people I actually HAVE been attracted to in my life, including John himself?"

They are silent for a few moments, thinking, absorbing. Gillian finally breaks the silence.

"What does Kate think about it?", she asks.

Caroline sighs deeply. "Well. You know, Kate is so kind and gentle. Whenever I'm upset she always says the right thing, puts things in perspective … calms me down. But, she does have lines she won't cross – believe me, I know. I learned that the hard way." Caroline floats back a moment, remembering when Kate dumped her for not having the courage to book a double room for them at Holdsworth House, remembering how miserable she was for months after that. Until last Christmas.

"And THIS is most definitely a line. She never wanted John stopping round as it was. Now she's ready to chop off his bollocks."

"Yeah … yeah, of course" Gillian looks a little confused, trying to imagine Kate angry. "So, what you going to do?"

"I don't know. I'm not wild about the idea of this showing up in Waterstones in a few months. I suppose I should talk to my solicitor about it and see what my options are. If we even have any options – any legal options. I haven't told my mum yet, or Alan. Or the boys. What do you think? I mean, you're part of the story, too. How do you feel about this?"

"It honestly doesn't bother me much. Unless it stirs up Robbie again. Things are kind of nice between us right now."

Caroline looks directly into her eyes, probing. Then a slight smile.

"Good. That's good."

"And, how are things with Kate?"

Caroline's face softens and the storm cloud moves away. Gillian detects a slight blush creeping up.

"They're, they're, um, they're good. Really good. Really good. Yeah."

"Caroline, changing topics for a minute …. Can I, may I ask you something?"

"Sure." Caroline straightened up in her seat.

"So, you were married to John for 18, 19 years." She paused. "So, you must have, er, you mustn't have NOT liked men. Er, sleeping with men. Aye? So, how's it compare, being with a woman?"

"Ooh, that's a topic for another day!" Far in the future, Caroline thinks. End of conversation. "Shall we get the check?"


	2. There's no drama in happiness

"Hello, Gillian!" Caroline strides up the sidewalk and gives her step-sister a quick hug in front of the restaurant.

"Hi!" Gillian smiles. "I've asked for the same table as last time, few weeks ago. It's ready. And I've already ordered you a glass of cabernet."

"Brilliant! Thank you."

They take their seats, scan the menu, and place their orders. Caroline looks more relaxed and happy today than the last time she saw her, Gillian notices.

"So, what have you decided to do about John's novel?", Gillian asks. "Did you speak with your solicitor?"

"I certainly did," she answers. "He says that there is no way to prevent the novel being published, other than a nasty and probably expensive legal battle, and one that would likely not be successful. But John has agreed to a few, um, modifications, shall we say? And I think Kate and I can live with that."

"Let me guess: Kate isn't run down by that crazy television writer?"

"You guessed it!" Caroline grimaces. She still can't believe her ex-husband would have invented such an offensive story line.

"He put up quite a fuss about taking that part out," she continues. "He claimed that, in order to provide the framework for Alison Waterhouse's personal growth, he needed to create a tragedy that would reconcile Alison with her mother. It's absolutely absurd that he felt the story needed a rift between them to begin with."

"What was the rift about?"

"Oh, apparently Alison's mum decided on the day of Alison's wedding to stay at home."

"Why?"

"She was upset about learning that Lizzie's dad – your dad – had had a fling 45 years ago."

"That's funny, thinking that my dad might have ever had a fling."

"I know! But, well, you never know, do you? Anyway, that was the rift. It wasn't a very creative decision on John's part. I think he could have done much better. My mum – Alison's mum – is certainly, um, entertaining from time to time, and there is no shortage of opportunities for a quarrel with her. But, actually, this isn't one of them. Ever since last Christmas she's been surprisingly supportive of my relationship with Kate. Well, _more_ supportive. You know that she's the one who asked Kate to play piano for the wedding and who invited her to stay for the do afterwards?"

"Yes, my dad told me that. That's sweet. Kind of surprising – but I guess the threat of him dumping her was enough to get her to finally turn the corner."

"Yep. I think she was a little embarrassed to see the two of us take to the dance floor – well, a lot embarrassed – but when she saw that everyone else was fine and that no one dropped dead - except maybe Lawrence - she recovered quickly. She's really been quite lovely about it all since then. No one would ever get that from John's book, of course. When I pressed him on it, he said his rationale for the whole thing about the rift between Alison and her mum, then Alison's wife getting run down by the television writer, was that 'there is no drama in happiness'."

Gillian bursts out laughing.

"Seriously? I can think of plenty of drama in happy everyday life. Plenty. Enough to fill up a whole bookshelf … roomful … library of books."

"I know! I understand his point about situations that test a story's characters and help them grow emotionally, but there is no shortage of such situations in everyday life. Our parents are aging and could have any number of crises, for example."

"I could have all sorts of struggles with my happy little farm."

"Kate's mother has a good life and job in New York, but they hardly ever see each other. That should be good for some drama."

"Raf and Ellie could get wed, if he needs a wedding. But no throwing up in buckets at the altar, please."

"Kate and I are an interracial lesbian couple happily raising an interracial child. And we both work at the same school, where I am technically her boss. Although, of course, we have changed the supervisory structure – but, good lord, there's certainly enough drama there for a book or two."

"What are his other novels like? He gave me one once, but, to be honest, I couldn't get past the first chapter without dozing off."

"Oh, they're, they're … they're mostly lightweight detective dramas. He has this character called Jack Protheroe – 'private detective, lost soul' – who solves mysteries while shagging his way across England and searching for the meaning of life. They're the sort of thing you read on holiday, then forget about a week later."

"Pulp fiction."

"Precisely. And he keeps using the same themes – even the same phrases – over and over and over. If I read 'short end of the stick' in one of his books one more time, I will be like Robbie on your wedding day, vomiting into a bucket. And the leading female character in one book sounds exactly like the one in the last book, even though they have different names."

Their salads arrive, and they dig in.

"I have asked him to change a few other bits, also," Caroline continues. "He's managed to keep the Greg character in the book, although in a different story line. I pointed out to him that it seems a little weird to me, Matthew Waterhouse's obsession with him, but he insisted. I don't understand what that's about …. Maybe he thinks it makes him look cool to Lawrence to be pals with his _Death Grip_ hero?"

"What's _Death Grip_? Sounds a bit scary."

"Oh … it's … it's just a comic book. Good and evil battling for control of the universe, superheroes with big knockers, that sort of thing. Lawrence is obsessed with it, and Kate saw him with one of his comics one day and told him that her friend Greg is the illustrator. You should have seen Lawrence's face! Anyway, I think John has been a little jealous of Greg ever since then. He's obviously already having trouble dealing with my being with Kate – with Kate taking his place, as he probably sees it. And then to have the baby's biological father be one of Lawrence's heroes must be particularly vexing for him."

"Right. Makes sense."

"How about you? Are you sure there aren't any parts you want him to change for your sake?"

"No, it matters 'nowt to me."

"My mum's and your dad's story was publicized pretty widely, and people can put two and two together, so there's no doubt some people will be able to figure out who we are. It's probably fortunate in some ways that so much of John's novel is pure fantasy. Everyone who actually knows us will know that it's rubbish, and those who don't will see it for what it is – a mediocre pulp fiction, as you say, by a has-been writer who has run out of original ideas and is simply regurgitating themes from previous work."

"I don't think it's likely that anyone I know will be reading the book. And sheep don't read."

"You know, I really don't mind people knowing I'm a lesbian now. I would probably be more embarrassed for them to know I was married to John all those years … he's turned out to be such a jerk."

"Doesn't it feel, feel a bit, um, a bit dangerous to be public about it? From what you see on the telly, lesbians get run down by autos, or they slash their wrists in the back seats of cars, or they come to all sorts of unsavory ends. Makes you wonder if the BBC is trying to send some sort of sinister message. Like maybe it should be called the … the … British Brainwashing Corporation."

Caroline smiles. Gillian has a funny way of spinning out ideas as she talks, her mouth one tiny step ahead of her brain, and Caroline has come to find it endearing.

"I know!" Caroline agreed, shaking her head in disbelief. "At Sulgrave Heath, we give very careful thought to the impact of messages in the media on our children. If a lesbian is killed off on television, or made to suffer a broken heart or some other tragedy almost every single time, it begins to normalize that experience for viewers so that they gradually come to expect that that's the inevitable outcome of being a lesbian. It's criminal, really. It should be."

"Right. Right."

"It was very challenging for me to, to, to stop hiding about who I am. To come out. But now I see how very important it is, so that children have positive gay role models and don't get brainwashed by the bloody sensationalism they see on the telly. Even Lawrence once encouraged me, with his own unique and colorful language, to be more forthright about it."

"Really?"

"I owe it all to Kate. She's such a gentle person, but she has very little tolerance for gay people being closeted. Should YOU ever decide to start batting for the other team, you'd best watch your step around her! She'll have your kecks off if you're not out and proud."

They both burst out laughing.

"Kate strikes me as being quite different from you. And she seems like the complete opposite of John."

"Well, anyone with even the least bit of common sense is the complete opposite of John," Caroline shakes her head.

"But, yeah, I think Kate and I complement each other well. She's calm in situations in which I'm apt not to be. She's kind, and thoughtful … and, as we know, I'm a snotty bitch. She's … she's …" Caroline's voice trails off.

"What drew you to her?"

"Ooh... OOH! What time is it? I'm going to be late getting Lawrence!"

Caroline scrambles for her purse and pulls out some money. "I'm sorry, Gillian, I need to run. We'll have to save that question for another time." She gives her a quick hug, then leaves.


	3. Reviewing the reviews

"Well, there it is," Caroline says, coming to an abrupt halt in front of the display window at Waterstone's. "Look at that."

Gillian catches up with her a few seconds later. _My god,_ she thinks, _Caroline must have the longest stride of any woman in Yorkshire!_ She stares at the pyramid of books in the window – _Last Tango in Halifax_ , by John Elliott. John's smiling face peers back at them from the poster next to the pile of books: "The author will read from his new book and take your questions today at 3pm."

"Are you still up for stopping in to hear him?" Gillian asks.

"Absolutely," Caroline answers with a mischievous smile. "I wouldn't miss the opportunity to watch him squirm for anything in the world."

"Okay, then. Good. Let's get some lunch."

A few minutes later they are in their usual café, sitting at their usual table overlooking the sidewalk. They place their orders. When the wine arrives, Caroline takes a big sip, then grabs some papers from her handbag and slaps them on the table.

"I brought some of the reviews that came out this past week. Have you seen any of them yet?"

"One or two", Gillian answers. "There was a big one plastered across front page of _The Inquisitor_ last week. Well, it wasn't that big, and it was on the lower part of the front page. Not … It wasn't as big news as the Queen driving her Jaguar across the grass, apparently."

"Oh, really! What did it say?"

"Oh. Well, you know _The_ _Inquisitor_. They, um, they rather liked the book's melodrama. But they did say that he writes some lovely prose about Yorkshire landscapes. 'Vivid', I think they said."

Caroline scowls and shakes her head. "Well, what could we expect of the tabloids, really? John's book probably looks good in comparison to the rubbish they print."

She rummages through the pile of papers and pulls one out.

"Here's _The Independent_ : 'In remarks at the Hay Festival in Wales last week, Elliott said that he had originally written another version of the novel in which his ex-wife's new wife is run down by a car but that he was ultimately persuaded by editors to change the plot line, although he still wonders if the death would have served the story better."

"Wow", Gillian's voice trails off. "I suppose you, Kate, and your solicitor are 'the editors'?

"I suppose so!"

"I would love to hear him explain why he still thinks killing off Kate – what's she called in the book? - why killing her off would serve the story better."

"She's called Lucy. And that would be a good question to ask him at three o'clock, wouldn't it?". Caroline smiled, imagining John's discomfort answering the question.

"But the best of all, I think, is from _The Guardian,"_ she says, flipping through the papers. "Listen to this. It also refers to John's comments at the Hay Festival. 'Thanks to his editors, Elliott narrowly managed to avoid the 'dead lesbian cliché' to which so many other writers have unimaginatively resorted.' I particularly liked this passage: 'In drama, characters will die. It is the least lovable who generally survive, because they're also the most intriguing. But is privileging a toxic biological relationship' – they're referring to my, er, Alison's relationship with her mother, whom John has made out to be a latter day Godzilla. 'But is privileging a toxic biological relationship over a happy queer marriage really worth winning readers?'"

"Ha-ha!" Gillian chuckles.

Caroline folds up the reviews and slips them back into her handbag. She looks at Gillian, beaming with excitement.

"But, here's some good news about the book. Great news, really. I got a call from my solicitor yesterday morning."

"Yeah?"

"You know how I was able to press John to make some changes? Or, perhaps I should say how I was able to suggest some editorial improvements? Well, my solicitor was able to persuade John and his solicitor to share the book's profits with us. He described it as a sort of compensation for our editorial input, but I have a feeling he strongly implied that John is lucky we didn't block him from publishing the book altogether. The solicitor dropped off the signed agreement yesterday afternoon."

"What?" Gillian's jaw drops open.

"I know! It's wonderful. Well, it's at least something to compensate for all the agony John has put us through. So, the solicitor was able to negotiate half of whatever profits the book earns! For our family! Of that fifty percent, my mum and your dad will get one-third, Kate and I will get one-third, and you will get one-third."

"That's … that's just amazing, Caroline. I can't believe it. That will really, really help with the farm."

"Yes, it's ironic, isn't it? All those times John offered you some input into the farm, and here it is."

"I'm … I'm speechless. For once."

"Well, you have ten minutes to get over it," Caroline says, waving for the server to bring the check. "John's reading is about to begin. Let's go watch the show!"


End file.
